


Maximus

by sara_holmes



Series: Puzzle Pieces [10]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: A cat that's not a cat, Aliens, Anna Barton Barnes, Arto Rogers - Freeform, Birthday Presents, Do not post to other sites, Fluff and Humor, Multi, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:41:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25037182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_holmes/pseuds/sara_holmes
Summary: Bucky is sick of aliens and then Thor brings one into the goddamn house, claiming it’s a birthday present? No thank you.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Puzzle Pieces [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/279279
Comments: 114
Kudos: 552





	Maximus

**Author's Note:**

> This is for [Alchemistdoctor](https://alchemistdoctor.tumblr.com/), who had the amazing idea of having the Counterpart series printed so they and a friend could read it during lockdown, then sent me a copy too! I offered to write a Counterpart fic in return and they asked for something with Anna and Arto and cute animals. I hope you like it!

The banner is up, fluttering gently in the breeze that drifts in through the open french windows. The cake is ready and waiting, in pride of place on the buffet table. The presents are stacked neatly in a pile against the bookcase-lined wall; a veritable mountain of pink and silver wrapped shapes. The balloons are the last thing to be ready - Steve is still on duty, super-soldier lungs diligently working through the one hundred pink balloons that Bucky has said are one hundred percent absolutely necessary. 

Clint thinks this is probably only the second time he’s been in the library since Tony moved them all into the mansion. It’s kind of become Steve’s room - he lasted all of a week before moving his desk out of his and Tony’s shared study and into the roomier and somewhat calmer library. Tony hadn’t seemed too bothered by Steve’s absence; it had taken him approximately an hour to fill the space left by Steve with another computer or five, despite the fact he had the whole basement decked out as a workshop. 

Now he’s in it, Clint kind of gets the appeal of the library; it’s huge for starters, and seeing as it’s on the corner of the building and has more windows than probably necessary, it gets light all through the day. He’s glad Steve suggested they have the party in here rather than in the actual ballroom. One, because 'a party in the ballroom' is too pretentious for words and two, because they don't have enough friends with security clearance to fill a ballroom. 

The library, however, is just enough to fit the full time occupants of the house, plus Parker, Omari, Natasha, Bruce, Lilya, Sam, Maria and Nick Fury. Thor is supposedly on the way too but timekeeping between Earth and Asgard is wobbly at the best of times. 

Everyone seems to be having a good time, Clint thinks. Well, everyone except Bucky who is somehow so stressed that he’s stalked away, probably to the bottom of the yard to smoke. 

“Your daddy is a lunatic,” Clint informs Anna, who has been sitting in her favourite place; the crook of his elbow, leaning against his shoulder. She pats him on the cheek then commences a program of vigorous and determined wiggling so Clint has to put her down. 

“Dad,” she says seriously, then toddles off towards Steve, arms already in the air in anticipation of airplane rides.

“Bucky’s having a meltdown,” Arto says through a mouthful of cupcake, wandering over with a wrapped present tucked under his arm. Next to him, Omari nods vigorously, just to underscore the point. “He’s mad that she didn’t actually get a party on her birthday.”

“Half the team were in space on her actual birthday, what does he want me to do?” Clint grouches, and snags the uneaten half of cupcake from Arto’s hand. “Hang on, you think this is a something else? That he’s not actually mad at the party, but something else?”

“He’s mad at me,” Steve calls over. He’s got Anna held up above his head and she’s squealing with delight. “I told him I haven’t approved new weapon requisition forms yet and he called me a - well, he called me something I can’t say right now because someone is learning more words, yes, aren’t you?” He brings Anna closer to his face as she says it and receives a chubby little fist to the jaw for his trouble. He simply laughs it off, which Clint kind of wishes he wouldn’t, because while the super-soldiers barely feel the accidental hits and kicks, he certainly does.

“Hey, no hitting,” Arto says, walking over and snagging Anna from his dad. Clint is totally going to sneak the kid a beer later. Arto wags his finger at Anna as he puts her down. “No punches, you meanie.”

“That wasn’t a hit,” Steve says dismissively, going back to blowing up balloons. “Hey, Clint, want me to go talk to Bucky?”

“Please,” Clint says. Anna pushes away from Arto and runs back to Clint, steaming straight into his knees. She leans back, looking up at him crossly, like it’s his fault she only has about thirty percent control over her limbs when she runs. Her hair is coming out of the bunches Clint painstakingly did this morning as well, and he loves her so fiercely it feels like stomach ache. 

“Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad,” she says and points towards the table full of food. “Yes.”

He laughs. “Oh, you want food, how did I guess?” 

“Yes,” she says again, and then she’s off again, probably trying to find an adult who is easy to sucker in with her big blue eyes. Oh man, it’s Tony who’s closest to the buffet table - she’ll have eaten her bodyweight in cake before the party is over, Clint knows it.

It’s only a few minutes later when Steve and Bucky reappear, stepping in through the French doors which confirms Clint's suspicion that he'd been hiding at the bottom of the yard down near the hangars. Bucky beelines for Clint, looking apologetic. “Sorry,” he mutters. “Just. Lots of people here and I was stressed about work even before.”

“Sure,” Clint says. “You wanna rescue the baby before she cons Tony into giving her all the cakes?”

Bucky nods, looking relieved that he’s being given a task rather than having to mingle. “On it,” he says, and heads over to probably slap the cupcake right out of Tony’s hand. Natasha and Maria Hill are watching with obvious amusement and Natasha winks at Clint as he looks over. He can only smile ruefully, shaking his head and hoping that no actual fighting breaks out. It’s a birthday party for a baby after all, and for as weird as their lives are he thinks they should be able to manage at least that. 

From outside there's a sudden and loud rumble of thunder. Clint grins and heads over to the open doors, watching as the clouds gather together with a speed frightening to anyone who isn't acquainted with Thor. 

"He better not wreck the lawn again," Tony grouches, licking at the frosting on a pink, glittery cupcake. Clint glances over to see Anna sitting on Bucky's hip with a carrot stick in either hand.

"Make him a landing spot," Steve suggests, ducking his head under the 'happy late birthday' banner and peering up at the sky just as the clouds split in two, lightning streaking down from the sky to hit smack bang in the middle of the lawn. It leaves yet another perfect bifrost pattern on the grass. 

"Like he'd use it even if I did," Tony scoffs as Thor and Jane come into view, both carrying gifts. Jane’s is small enough to be held in one hand, wrapped in bright gold paper; Thor’s is significantly larger and being carried under one massive arm. Clint beams; he really wasn’t sure they were going to make it and he hasn’t had a chance to catch up with Thor in ages. 

“Thor!” he yells, waving. “You made it!”

"Of course we did," Thor calls back, stepping over the flowerbed into the room. “Fandrall and the others send their best,” he adds, then turns to lift Jane into the room too, setting her down delicately. She smiles and he kisses her on the cheek. It still makes her blush even after all this time. 

"Well, I know how busy Asgard business gets," Clint says as Thor leans over to hug Steve, clapping him on the back with force that would break anyone else's spine. 

“We didn't want to miss the most important not-birthday in the land,” he says. 

“Shhh,” Clint hisses, looking over his shoulder for Bucky. “It’s a sore spot that we missed her actual birthday.”

“We were in space,” Jane says, a little defensively. “We couldn’t help how long it took-”

“I know, I know, I never claimed he was rational - hey babe,” Clint says, hastily switching to a smile as Bucky and Anna come up. Anna is fixated on the remnants of her carrot sticks. Bucky's eyes are narrowed.

“Don’t you _hey babe_ me, I can hear you across the room you know,” Bucky grouches. “Anna, say hello to Thor.”

“Teev,” Anna insists, and then buries her face in Bucky’s shoulder, pouting.

“She knows I’m the best Avenger, doesn’t she?” Thor asks, looking slightly put out even as Steve grins, smug. “Anna, you don’t want to see Steve, you see Steve all the time. Steve isn’t even the strongest Avenger.”

“Steve is the favourite because he has no regard for safety and carries her around above his head and she thinks it’s fun,” Bucky says. Steve just shrugs, completely unapologetic. 

Arto reappears, muscling in under Thor’s free arm for a sort-of-hug and looking bemused. “You used to carry me around by my ankles,” he says. “You can’t talk.”

“You weren’t a baby, you were like eight,” Bucky argues. “And you’re a super-soldier. If I’d dropped you you would have healed before you hit the ground.”

“Lies,” Arto says, and then is promptly distracted by what Thor and Jane are carrying. “Hey, you bought presents!”

“We did!” Jane says, and hands her delicately wrapped gift to Clint. “It’s a night-light! But it’s special, it casts the actual constellations and moves them properly-”

“Isn’t human tradition that you open the gifts before you explain them?” Thor says and Jane smiles sheepishly. “Here, have a surprise, which is the point of gifts.”

He sets his parcel down on the floor and Clint and Bucky both crouch down. Anna doesn’t really get the idea of gifts yet and is instead yawning, stroking her hand over the short hair on the back of Bucky’s head. She doesn’t usually go down for another hour or so but the excitement of seeing everyone and the party must have wiped her out.

“Go for it.” Bucky nods towards the gift and Clint reaches out to start pulling paper away. A sort of intricately woven wicker basket appears and Clint frowns, curiosity building. The last piece of paper falls away and reveals two huge amber eyes looking at him through a gap in the basket.

“Oh shit,” Clint says, just as Bucky says, “What the _fuck?_ ”

It’s loud enough to draw attention; Tony, Bruce, Natasha and Fury all crowd around, watching as Thor beams and bends down to open the basket, which Clint is ninety percent sure contains something alive.

“An Asgardian forest cat,” Thor says, scooping out a brown ball of fluff with two eyes and a swishing tail. He holds it in the palm of his hand and holds it out towards them. “They make great companions.”

The ball of fluff wriggles around and reveals itself to be distantly kitten shaped. It turns its eyes on Clint and mews, the sound strangely harmonic. Its legs look a little stubby and its ears are half-hidden amongst the fur. Christ, the thing looks like it’s been rubbing itself against all the balloons, fur sticking out every which way. It’s so freaking cute that it could have its own Instagram account and probably get more followers than Steve and Arto combined.

“Uhhhh,” Clint says, because he spends all of his effort on keeping his daughter alive, let alone having to look after a goddamn cat. Next to him, Bucky has gone speechless which is probably for the best.

It’s Arto who breaks the silence. “Oh wow,” he enthuses, reaching out to take the ball of fluff from Thor. “Oh my god it’s so cute I’m gonna _die_. What’s it called?”

“She doesn’t have a name yet,” Thor says.

“Uh, normally people check it’s okay before buying livestock as gifts,” Tony says warily. “What if I have allergies?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “You don’t have allergies.” 

“Excuse me, we’ve never been in contact with an Asgardian forest cat, I might have previously undiscovered allergies.”

“I did try and tell him,” Jane says, resigned and apologetic.

“And I didn’t listen, because it’s a great gift,” Thor says. “They are very highly regarded on Asgard. Their ancestors used to pull the chariots of Asgardian royalty, and they had wings. I don’t think this one does.”

“You don’t _think?_ ” Bruce asks.

“It can fly?” Arto yelps, looking thrilled. 

"You are not supposed to import alien wildlife without clearance, how many times do I have to tell you people," Fury says, rubbing his temples. 

“Oh my god,” Clint says.

“No,” Bucky says, and everyone stops. He stands up, cradling Anna to his shoulder. She yawns, one arm wound around his neck as she blinks at everyone, clearly displeased that they’re all here and not going away so she can nap. “What if - what if it scratches her? What if it’s got fleas?”

Thor looks offended. “It will not and it does not. _You’re_ more likely to have fleas.”

“Whoa, whoa, everyone just calm down,” Steve says, hastily stepping in as Bucky’s eye twitches. “Thor, thank you for the gift. Bucky, we’ll work something out.”

“It’s the best thing ever,” Arto says. “Ignore Bucky, he’s just grumpy.”

Bucky scowls. “I am _not._ ”

“Look,” Arto insists, and holds the cat - kitten? It seems pretty small - up towards Anna. She blinks at it then lifts her head from Bucky’s shoulder, interest piqued. “Yeah, there you go,” Arto beams as Anna reaches out a chubby hand towards the cat, eyes wide as she touches its fur. Her face cracks into a wide smile and she lets out a happy squeal, now reaching for the cat with both hands. “There you go,” Arto says as if that settles it. “She likes her, we’re keeping her.”

“We can’t just start getting pets, we’re Avengers,” Bucky argues. “What about when we go on mission? Who’s gonna feed the fucking thing?”

“Me,” Arto says with a determined jut of his chin, looking way too much like his dad. “I’ll look after her and feed her and bath her and clean up after her. Anna can just play with her when she wants.”

“Whoa,” says Steve, suddenly alarmed. “You’ve got a fish tank full of fish to look after.”

“It’s rude to turn down a gift,” Arto says stubbornly, cradling the cat to his chest. 

“Exactly,” Thor says. 

“Well apparently no-one listens to me,” Tony sighs, apparently resigned to the inevitable. “Jarvis, give me the number for the nearest pet store.”

“Here we go,” mutters Bruce and sidles away, clearly wanting no part in today’s particular brand of madness.

“Ha,” Arto says to Steve, triumphant. “She’s staying, aren’t you, Maximus?”

“Maximus?” Clint questions. “You better hope she grows into that name, kid.”

“She will,” Arto says, holding the kitten up. Bucky scowls, reflexively stepping back so it's not in Anna's reach. “Thor, you’re the best.”

Thor folds his arms, looking pleased. “See,” he says to Jane. “ _Best_ Avenger.”

* * *

Clint wakes up the next morning when a vibranium elbow digs into his ribs and a voice mumbles, “baby’s waking up,” right in his ear. He groans, clinging to his pillow for a moment before rolling out of bed and tugging his sweats on. He fumbles for his hearing aids, slipping them in and immediately hearing the sleepy babbling over the baby monitor. “What time is it?”

“Just past six,” Bucky says. “Same time she always wakes up.”

“Ugh,” Clint says. “I feel like I have a cake hangover. Is that a thing?”

“You ate twelve cupcakes, I’d say it’s a possibility,” Bucky says, and rolls over, blinking hard. “You get the baby and I’ll get coffee?”

“Deal,” Clint says. He shuffles towards the door, doubles back to smack a kiss to Bucky’s mouth, laughs when Bucky pulls a face and pushes him away, then goes to Anna’s room. She’s standing up, holding onto the rails of the cot. She sleepily smiles as she spots him. “Da,” she says, reaching up towards him and wobbling dangerously as she lets go of the rail. “Da, Da.”

“Yes, it’s me,” he says, and hefts her out of the cot. “Breakfast?”

“Ca,” she says, her fingers tugging at the hair on the back of his head. “Ca.”

“Ca?” he repeats, puzzled. “You better not be asking for cake for breakfast, you ate enough cake yesterday.” 

When they get to the kitchen, Bucky has got the coffee pot going and is slicing up toast and a banana for Anna. “No!” she shouts, but then immediately reaches out, straining with effort and her eyes fixed on the banana. Clint slips her into her high-chair and she babbles happily as Bucky hands over the banana and toast. Most of it will end up on the floor or around her face but as long as she’s happy he doesn't mind. 

“All her presents are on the couch, can you sort them out today?”

“Sure,” Clint says. “I’ll add it to my stay-at-home-dad duties.”

They muddle through their morning routine, tag-teaming showers and breakfast while pacifying Anna by playing Moana for the fifth time this week. Clint also sneaks her a cookie while Bucky’s getting dressed and bitching about weapon-requisition-forms, because while Clint is definitely the stricter parent out of the two of them, he’s still pretty much a pushover. 

“Hey, I’m gonna go see if Arto wants to come to the store with us,” Clint calls. “He’ll only complain if we go - whoa!”

He opens the door that separates their wing from the rest of the house and immediately a tiny chestnut fluffball bounds in, long tail streaming behind it like the tail on a kite. “Hey, hey, wait!” he says, like the cat can understand him. He almost trips over his feet as he whirls around to try and stop Maximus getting in. He’s too slow; Maximus bounds down the corridor towards their lounge, and by the time he catches up, she’s curled up in Anna’s lap, head rubbing against her chin.

“Ca!” Anna exclaims, burying her hands in Maximus’s fur and beaming. “Ca!”

“Yes, the cat,” Clint says, rubbing his forehead. “Any chance you’ll let me take it away from you?”

“Take what away from _what the fuck_ ,” Bucky stops dead in the doorway, halfway into his jacket. “I said no!”

“I know, it just ran in when I opened the door,” Clint protests. “I do listen to you, y'know.”

“Sure,” Bucky snorts, and steps over to Anna. “Hey, pudding, watch out.”

He bends down and scoops up Maximus with his metal hand. The cat allows it with no fuss whatsoever, just dangles there with it’s big amber eyes fixed on Anna. Anna is less impressed and lets out an indignant shriek that would have most animals running for cover.

“Buck,” Clint tries helplessly. 

“Nope,” Bucky says and strides down the corridor to deposit the cat outside. “Arto!” he bellows out into the rest of the house. “Come get this fuckin’ thing and give it back to Thor before I turn it into an Asgardian forest hat!”

Anna’s lip wobbles. Her big eyes go even bigger and fill with tears. Clint hastily reaches up and tugs off the hearing aid that’s in the ear closest to her, just in time as she starts to howl.

* * *

Anna is cranky and upset about the cat until her nap, then in true tiny-human fashion she wakes up and has forgotten about it, choosing to divert her energy into a battle over socks instead. Life carries on as normal - well, as normal as life ever gets - for a grand total of two days. Then, just as Clint thinks they can finally put the whole debacle behind them and have some quality down-time, aliens decide that they need to colonise Lake Superior. They arrive in scaly, webbed glory and while they're very unfriendly they’re only mildly dangerous; CNN keeps showing a clip of an annoyed Canadian tourist squashing one with a sandwich board. However, the aliens hop through a portal in such overwhelming numbers that all of the Avengers are asked to attend and help with the squashing. 

Seeing as the risk to life is low and they can confidently say they’ll both make it back, Clint and Bucky both decide to go. Clint has his suspicions that Bucky has been slightly swayed by the fact Steve finally got round to dealing with weapon requisitions, so he has a nice shiny new semi-automatic to play with. Either way, they leave the baby with Arto, load up into the Quinjet and get to some good old alien-smashing.

It’s messy, gross and tedious. By the time the portal has been closed, Clint has shot more aliens than he can count, and had his boots, elbows and quiver aggressively gnawed on by toothless fish-aliens. It weirdly reminds him of when Anna was brand new to them and had started chewing on everyone and everything as she was teething. Yeah, he loves her more than anything but still, babies are _gross._

Bucky and Clint are first back, having left the others on clean up and Steve trying to smooth things over with the Mounties. They stow the jet as quickly as they can, both of them eager to get back to Anna. 

“Did Arto text you back?” Bucky says as they leave the hangar, making sure there’s room for the others to stow the larger quinjet that’s due back any second now.

“Yeah, he said they’re playing in the yard,” Clint says, unlocking the gate and gesturing for Bucky to go through so he can lock it behind him. 

“She better have sunscreen on,” Bucky says, and then stops dead so suddenly that Clint walks into his back.

“What the hell,” Clint complains, and then spots what’s incapacitated Bucky; Anna and Arto are sitting on a picnic blanket underneath the parasol and having a whale of a time, but they’re not alone.

“That _goddamn_ cat,” Bucky hisses. “Wait, what the _fuck_.”

It takes Clint’s brain a moment to catch up: at first glance everything seems okay. Anna seems very taken with the cat; she’s leaning forwards with her hands in Maximus’s fur, tugging on ears and an incredibly fluffy tail with happy enthusiasm. The cat is tolerating it with a surprising amount of patience, mewing softly and rolling around on it’s back so Anna can touch the softest fur on its belly.

That’s all fine. What’s not so fine is the _size_ of the damn cat. When Clint last saw it, it was like a fluffy football with a tail. Now the thing is as big as a freaking Labrador.

Bucky is looking stunned. “Is that - how fucking big did that thing get? Man, I am _sick_ of aliens and Thor brings one into the goddamn house!"

“At least it’s not a slimy one?” Clint offers.

“Ida shot it myself if he’d bought anything slimy,” Bucky says, and starts power-walking. “Arto! Why is that fuckin’ furball still here?!”

In the face of Bucky’s murder-stride and cursing, Arto visibly tenses. For a moment Clint thinks he’s going to bolt, but then he steels himself and holds his ground.

"We kept her," he says stubbornly. “It wasn’t just up to you.”

Bucky strides over and sweeps Anna up, pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek. “Hello, pudding," he says, and narrows his eyes at Arto. "Steve told me you got rid of it."

Arto shifts to stand between Bucky and Maximus. "I don't know what you're talking about.”

"Oh I'm sorry, do you have me mixed up with someone else? An idiot, maybe?" 

“Well…”

“Do not finish that sentence if you want to live,” Bucky threatens. "Though I'll have to kill you after I kill your lying excuse for a father."

"It's not Steve's fault," Arto protests and then looks distinctly uncomfortable. “Tony told Steve we did get rid of her.”

Clint and Bucky look at each other.

“You lied to Steve?”

“And he fell for it?”

Clint staggers as a weight bumps into the back of his legs. It’s the damn cat, purring like a speedboat and rubbing its head against his calves. It’s weird, they’re in the middle of an escalating argument and he somehow feels calmer just listening to that rumbling purr that’s being pressed against his legs. 

Bucky and Arto look up in tandem and Clint hears it a second later; the second quinjet drifts into view, meandering lazily over the house and towards the hangars. Bucky’s jaw goes tight as the jet finally sinks low enough to vanish behind the security fence. The engines cut out and then moments later Bruce appears, fumbling with the gate and looking dead on his feet. He’s clutching a blanket around his shoulders and blinking owlishly, clearly having just woken up. A moment later and Sam appears, taking pity on him and wrangling with the security lock on the gate. He gets it open and guides Bruce through, the pair of them followed swiftly by Natasha. She goes around to prop up Bruce’s other side, the three of them slowly making their way towards the house.

“Nat!” Anna shouts happily, waving. “Lo!”

“Hello, Anna baby,” Natasha laughs when they’re close enough, using her free hand to gently hold onto Anna’s waving one. “Hello gorgeous girl, I’m coming for a cuddle the moment I’ve had a shower and washed all the alien out of my hair, alright? Hey Solnishka, everything okay?” 

“Jury’s out,” Arto says, looking between Clint and Bucky.

“Where’s Steve?!” Bucky snaps. 

“Shhh,” Bruce protests, wincing. He presses a hand across his eyes. “Not so loud.”

Bucky huffs, then jerks his head towards the house. “Better get inside before I get yellin’ then.”

“What the hell happened?” Sam asks, gaping at Maximus. “That’s the same cat, right?”

“Thor did say she was special,” Natasha says, with a shrug, because of course Natasha can take freakish dog-sized alien cats in stride even after thirty hours fighting aliens. “Come on, Bruce. Lilya’s waiting for you.

“Steve said it was gone,” Bucky says, and Clint resists the urge to point out that it sounds like he’s telling on Steve to Sam. Admittedly, Sam is the one who people normally tell on Steve to, because he’s the one that can deal with him without it escalating into a fight.

“Okay, I see where this is going,” Sam says. “I’m outta here. Come on, Bruce. Arto, call me if they start swinging.”

“Can’t we just have a week without anyone fighting?” Bruce asks forlornly.

“Shhh,” Natasha says, patting his chest as they start to move again. “Let the boys argue about the cat, let’s get you somewhere nice and quiet.”

“Can I come?” Clint asks half-heartedly. 

“No,” Sam and Bucky both say, so Clint is resigned to staying put and waiting for Tony and Steve to finish stowing the jet. It doesn’t take long; within a minute they appear at the gate. They have their usual jostling as they both try to unlock the gate at the same time, then finally Steve elbows Tony out the way so they can get through, 

Tony leaves Steve to lock up, shoving his sunglasses on as he waves at them across the yard. He’s still in his armour, which looks ridiculous but is probably a safe bet considering how mad Bucky is.

"Run away!" Arto shouts, waving his arms at them. "Run away while you still can!" 

Tony pauses. He looks at Steve, looks at Arto, looks at Steve again and then shrugs and carries on walking. Steve catches him up and Arto groans as Steve does what they secretly call his ‘dumb dad wave’. He did it once at a baseball game and they showed it on the jumbotron and the news hadn’t stopped playing it for a week.

“Get back on the jet!” Arto yells.

"Shut up, Short Round," Bucky scowls, then raises his voice to yell at Steve. "You are such a liar!"

Maximus trots over to Steve and Tony when they’re a few paces away, purring even louder. Steve smiles and crouches down to heft the cat up into his arms. It rubs its head against his chin and it’s tail flicks against his knees. "I had nothing to do with it," Steve says, looking supremely unconcerned. "Tony and Arto are the ones who decided to keep it, and I decided to pretend I believed them so I didn’t have to get involved."

Tony frowns at Steve over the top of his sunglasses. "You decided?" 

Arto gasps. "You knew we were lying!" 

Steve sighs. "Who do you think you're talking to? Of course I did," he says and gently puts Maxmius back on the floor. She meanders over to Bucky, who makes an outraged noise and turns his back so Maximus can’t see Anna. "You guys can argue amongst yourself, I'm going to find some food."

"You better have a good explanation for not telling me!" Bucky yells at Steve's retreating back. 

"See this?" Steve shouts, holding his hands above his head and rubbing them together. "This is me washing my hands of this situation."

Clint has to bite back a laugh. Steve can be such a dick when he's hungry or tired or just generally fed up of their shenanigans.

"Come on, Barnes, it's just a cat," Tony says, gesturing to Maximus. "An abnormally large cat, but still. Jesus, Arto, what have you been feeding that thing?" 

"Just cat food," Arto protests. "She eats loads of it."

"Of course she does, she's the size of a pony. Hey, think we could knock up a saddle so Anna can ride her?" 

"Vetoed," Bucky snaps, backing away from the group with Anna still in his arms. "Get rid of it or I will."

He storms away. Clint sighs, watching him go and hearing Anna's protests as she's whisked away. When he turns around, he catches the tail end of a mouthed conversation between Tony and Arto, both of them hastily putting their hands behind their backs and trying to look nonchalant. 

"No wonder you didn't fool Steve," Clint says. "You're not going to get rid of it, are you?" 

"Not so much, no," Tony says. He drums his fingers against his chest plate; Clint just about registers the sound as a faint metallic ticking. "Which means you need to convince Terminator to let the tiger stay."

"I don't think calling it a tiger will help," Clint says, and looks down as Maximus mews softly, rubbing her giant head against his knees again. "Why am I stuck in the middle of this?" 

"Because you're the one that Bucky listens to," Arto says. “Duh.”

Tony nods, slinging an arm around Arto's shoulders. It's hard, seeing as Arto's taller than him even when he’s in the armour. "It's a gift and a curse," he says gravely. "Now go convince your cyborg husband to let his daughter keep the giant alien-cat that the Norse God bought for her not-birthday."

"I'm an Avenger," Clint complains. "I have important stuff to do."

"Sure," Tony says. "Come on, spawn, if we go now we'll be able to get Steve to make us sandwiches."

Clint watches them go and sighs, reaching down to brush his fingers against Maxmius’s ears. She ramps up the purring and Clint feels his shoulders relax a little. What will be will be, and it’s not worth stressing out over. 

* * *

Unfortunately, Bucky hasn’t got the note about not stressing. By the time Clint has pulled himself away from Maximus and headed back to their wing, he finds Anna standing in the lounge in nothing but her underpants with a poptart clutched in her hands, staring transfixed at Moana again. Bucky is cooking pasta with such badly-contained aggression that Clint wonders how he hasn’t cracked the stove top or pan. 

“Hey babe,” Clint says cautiously. “Everything okay?”

“What if she gets cat hair in her mouth?” Bucky demands, slamming the fridge shut. He flicks the lid off a bottle of beer - which, fine, Clint will call him out on the ‘no drinking in front of the baby’ rule later - and drains half of it in several gulps. “What if it sits on her and suffocates her?”

“She’s easily big enough to push something away if it’s too close to her face,” Clint says. He sighs and steps forwards, taking the beer from Bucky and putting it back in the fridge. “And we have like ten roombas on this floor.”

There’s a hissing sound behind them; the pot of pasta is boiling over. “This week is the worst,” Bucky snaps, snatching the pan off of the stove. “Emergency missions and leaving Anna with Arto and people lying about the goddamn cat still being here and my new gun is a piece of shit because it’s got an A-100 sight on and I _told_ Steve to order a modified T-60 instead.”

Privately, Clint thinks that maybe Bucky should go and pet Maximus, to see if her purring instills the same sense of peace and relaxation in him that Clint had experienced earlier. Out loud he says, “Leave me with lunch, go have a smoke and then yell at Steve about the gun.”

Bucky sighs and leans over and smacks a kiss to Clint’s mouth. “Thanks,” he mumbles, then heads over to drop a kiss on top of Anna’s head before striding out. Clint goes to rescue the pasta, simultaneously texting Arto to let him know Bucky’s on the move so he better hide the cat.

“Mana!” Anna says, taking a step closer to the television. “Mana.” 

“Yes, Moana,” Clint agrees. “You think we can maybe watch something else?”

“Mana,” Anna says happily and goes back to being glued to the TV screen.

* * *

Bucky comes back in time to bath Anna and put her to bed, then sits glaring at a new set of weapon-acquisition forms, muttering mutinously about his stupid best friend who won’t even break stupid paperwork protocol for him. Clint leaves him to it, tidying up and doing a load of Anna’s laundry, wondering if all superheroes have such glamorous lives when they’re not actively superheroing. He heads to bed with a Starkpad in hand and has half-heartedly made a start on the day’s mission report when Bucky joins him. 

**"** So was the new gun really that bad?" Clint yawns as Bucky climbs into bed, setting the baby monitor on the nightstand next to his glock. “You seemed to get on well enough today.”

"It was just the sight," Bucky admits. "It’s a lot quieter than the old model, I need to take it out again to check if it's got the range."

"Pity you don't have the talent to use a bow," Clint says and laughs as Bucky pinches at him with his metal fingers. "I was kind of hoping that finally getting the new gun would put you in a good mood."

"Why, you hoping to get laid?" 

"No, I was hoping that I could convince you to change your mind about the cat."

"No, Clint."

"Aw, come on,” Clint protests, rolling over so his head is on Bucky’s pillow. Bucky promptly plants his hand on Clint’s forehead and shoves him back onto his side of the bed. “She likes the cat. Everyone likes the cat.”

“But pets take so much looking after,” Bucky replies, frustrated. “And it’ll get cat hair everywhere, which isn’t good for Anna. And it could bite or scratch.”

“Buck,” Clint says, disbelieving. “You saw Anna petting her earlier, right? She was pulling on her ears and she didn’t give a damn.” 

“It's like five times the size of a regular cat.”

“So? You’re five times as asshole-ish as a regular person and you don’t see me complaining.”

He ducks as Bucky sits up but doesn't avoid getting wrestled onto his back, his wrists pinned to the pillows. 

"Am I getting lucky or getting my ass kicked?" 

“I haven't decided," Bucky says. "I'm not crazy for not wanting that animal, you know."

"I know. It's not like you think it's cursed or it’s an undercover Hydra agent or anything. Look, if Maximus scratched anyone I'd say she had to go, but-”

“I just don’t want anything to hurt Anna,” Bucky interrupts, not meeting Clint’s eyes. 

“I know. We all know. The whole world knows,” Clint says. “But maybe we can’t take everything away from her just because it might hurt her. You wouldn’t keep Steve away on the off-chance he’d hurt her while doing those dumb airplane rides.”

Bucky flops down onto him, burying his face in Clint’s shoulder and knocking all the air out of him. He mumbles something unintelligible. Clint rolls his eyes and pats Bucky on the shoulder.

“You staying there all night?”

“Yep,” Bucky says, sullen. “Problem?”

“No,” Clint says, sighing and shutting his eyes, resigning himself to a long night squashed under both Bucky’s weight and his attitude problem.

* * *

The next morning, Bucky wakes him up by kicking at his legs until he rolls over so he can blearily lipread him. “I’ll get baby, you get coffee,” Bucky says with some vague accompanying signs. Clint nods and staggers upright, getting as far as the bedroom door before remembering to double back and get his hearing aids. 

Morning routine is the same as ever, until Bucky goes to head out for a day scaring SHIELD trainees. He opens the front door of their wing and sees Maximus sat on her furry butt outside, staring right at the door.

“Mrow.”

Bucky exhales, forehead thunking against the doorframe. Clint takes a hasty step back with Anna in his arms but too late; she spots Maximus and lets out a delighted shriek.

“Ca! Ca!” She demands, kicking hard enough that Clint has to concede and put her down. “Ca!”

And Clint holds his breath as Anna toddles past Bucky’s legs, barrelling face-first into Maximus. She slumps down onto her knees, chubby fists clenched into chestnut fur and babbling excitedly. Maximus starts to purr and looks down, sniffing Anna’s head before gently licking at her wayward hair.

Clint watches Bucky, who is staring down at Anna, expression unreadable. Anna tightens her grip on Maximus and uses her to pull herself up again; unbelievably, Maximus not only tolerates it, but stands up on all four legs so Anna can hold onto her back.

“Oh, shit!”

From down the corridor there’s a curse and then two sets of running footsteps. Arto and Tony appear, skidding to a halt when they see Bucky in the doorway. 

“Oh, hello, good morning Buckaroo,” Tony says casually. “Any chance you don’t have a gun on you?”

Arto looks appalled. “He won’t shoot her!”

Tony takes a step back. “Of course he won’t shoot the cat, jury’s out on whether he’ll shoot me or not.”

“Ca,” Anna says, hand stroking clumsily at Maximus' huge ears before snuggling in, her head tucked against Maximus’. “Awwww.”

Oh god. It’s so cute. It’s so cute that Clint can barely stand it, even though there’s still a part of him that’s alarmed at his daughter being dwarfed by a cat whose teeth are probably heading towards lion-sized.

“Uhh, Thor says they’re really loyal?” Arto tries, eyes fixed on Bucky. “They can sense intruders and ill-will, so she’ll basically be like a guard dog.”

Bucky’s mouth twists in contemplation, chewing at his lower lip. “Did Thor say anything about how big it’ll get?”

Tony and Arto share a glance. “He said she’ll be as big as she needs to be?” Arto says, voice lilting up at the end like a question.

“That’s standardised units on Asgard,” Tony adds and lets out a soft “ooft,” as Arto elbows him in the stomach. 

Bucky looks torn. He's on the brink, Clint knows, though it's hard to tell which way he's going to tip.

He frowns and opens his mouth, but before he can say anything everyone freezes. He’s about to ask but the the green emergency lighting flares to life all along the corridor, and then he hears it - there's a distant smashing sound followed by a dull roar.

"Oh shit," Arto says again. Bucky swoops in to pick Anna up, his whole body going tense as another angry roar reverberates through the mansion. 

“I’ll go,” Arto says, already heading towards the noise of the commotion. 

“Not until we know what’s happened,” Tony says, grabbing hold of the back of Arto’s shirt. “Jarvis?”

“Doctor Banner received a mild electric shock from the ungrounded terminal in the workshop,” Jarvis says. “The Hulk is irritated but not out of control.”

“I _told_ him not to touch it,” Tony says. “Great, that means I’m probably going to have to buy new security doors, again. Alright, go.” He lets go of Arto. “Try and get him switched back before-” 

There’s a crunch and the door to Tony’s workshop flies across the corridor, hitting the wall opposite in several crumpled pieces. Bucky takes several large steps back, ready to bolt with Anna at a moment’s notice. Clint steps in front of Bucky and Anna as Hulk appears, grinding his teeth and looking exceptionally put-out. Arto takes a step towards him but before he can even roll up his sleeves, someone beats him to it.

Maxmius lets out a hiss and bounds towards Hulk. Clint feels his jaw drop at the sheer bravery, and it drops even further as he realises that with each bound down the corridor, _Maximus is getting bigger._ One minute she’s a labrador sized barrel of fluff, the next she’s staring down the Hulk and is the size of a freaking truck. Her ears are nearly brushing the goddamn ceiling and her teeth are now reaching fucking sabre-tooth proportions.

Clint holds his breath as Hulk rears back, clearly both shocked and affronted. He swings his head back and forth and grunts, taking a challenging step forward. Maximus makes a strange angry rumble in her throat, ears flattening against her skull. Her tail lashes back and forth, knocking over a chair and banging against the windows, making the glass rattle. 

“Whoa, whoa, Maxmius!” Arto runs down the corridor and showing about as much self-preservation as his fathers as he plants himself between Hulk and Maxmius. “He’s not a threat, he’s a friend!”

Tony makes an inarticulate noise of panic. He throws his hands out and there’s yet more crashing as his armour flies out of the workshop, encasing him head to toe. “Arto what the fuck are you doing?!” he shouts, trying to catch a glimpse of Arto past the chestnut barricade that now fills the corridor. “ _Arto?!_ ”

“Holy fuck,” Clint says as Maximus crouches down, clearly ready to launch herself at Hulk if he comes any closer. “Bucky, you wanna take the baby and get out before this gets messy?”

But Bucky’s not listening to him; he’s watching as Arto gently takes one of the Hulk’s massive hands in both of his and tugs, pulling him away from Maximus and along the corridor. Maxmius stays exactly where she is, poised to pounce as the Hulk capitulates and lets Arto steer him away, huffing in annoyance the whole way.

The moment Hulk is gone, Maximus relaxes. She somehow about-turns in the corridor and then starts back towards them, shrinking with each step. By the time she arrives at Clint’s feet she’s back to a regular sized cat. Purring, she rubs her head against his shins.

“Holy shit,” Clint and Bucky both say. 

“Ca!” Anna beams, nearly tipping herself out of Bucky’s arms as she tilts sideways to look at Maximus. 

“Goddamn aliens,” Tony says, flipping the faceplate up on his armour. “Yeah, you were right, Barnes, that thing has got to go.”

He takes off down the corridor, presumably to check that Arto is still managing to successfully wrangle the Hulk. Clint watches him go and then bends down to scoop Maximus up into his arms, letting out a laugh as her purring ramps up in volume. “As big as you need to be, right? Jesus, what are we going to do with you?”

“Well, she’s not sleeping on our bed,” Bucky says, and then heads back into their wing. “Are you coming or what?”

Clint grins, setting Maximus down. She immediately trots after Bucky and Anna, fluffy tail held high in the air like she’s celebrating a win. In a way, Clint thinks as he shuts their front door and follows his husband, daughter and pet alien inside, she probably is.

  
  


  
  



End file.
